Transition
by Amanthya
Summary: For a relationship to change, the people in it must change themselves, and acknowledge the difference. Part 3 of Not Love companion-fic series. T for theme; KxR; NO LEMON; NOT FOR SHO FANS.


**Transition**

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_For a relationship to change, the people in it must change themselves, and acknowledge the difference._ Part 3 of Not Love mini-series. T for theme; KxR; NO LEMON; NOT FOR SHO FANS. 4th companion-fic will be a direct sequel to part 3.

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'The things Kyoko could get up to in the few minutes it took a man to visit wardrobe,' Ren thought with an internal sigh as he guided his co-worker, wobbling ever-so-slightly, to a semi-secluded spot on the set to talk.

To an outsider's eye, she was perfectly fine; her small smile and perfect posture habitual, and her golden eyes tear-free and calm. But her sempai knew better.

She sat down in a bit of a rush, as her knees gave out; her lower lip trembled slightly as her adrenaline ran out and belated nerves hit. Her gaze was downcast, shoulders hunched for a moment as she took in deep breathes.

His inner Cain Heel wanted to go back the way she'd come and beat the blood out of that two-bit quote-unquote singer.

'Not now,' Ren told him.

"I did it, Tsuruga-san," she said quietly, head still lowered.

"What did you do, Mogami-san?" he asked softly, patiently.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, her expression odd, as if she didn't know how to feel. "I…I stopped him. Sho. I mean Fuwa-san. I stopped him from ranting about how I belonged to him. I told him I didn't want any part of him anymore. I stood up to him, Ren!" she burst out, voice still low but impassioned. She probably didn't even notice her slip of the tongue with his name – he almost missed it himself, caught up in the strength of her set jaw, the new light in her beautiful eyes, the amazement in her lovely voice.

He couldn't stop the slow, proud smile that spread across his lips.

Her cheeks reddened, but she managed her own smile. She sat up straight and began to tell him exactly what had happened.

He couldn't help wincing a few times, or snorting in laughter when he heard she'd kicked Fuwa where it would hurt the most. But when she went quiet and folded into herself again, he leaned forward, concerned.

"It…it reminded me of..of…" Her eyes went glassy, and he touched the hand trembling on her leg gently. He had to hastily jerk his hand back to avoid accidentally coping a feel as she leaned forward, gripping her own knees as if to hold herself together.

"Kyoko…"

"Of the beagle," she finished. "It reminded me of him. Of being at his mercy."

He touched his head to hers, his mouth over her ear, wanting to kiss it. He could not; this was neither the time nor place to offer unasked-for lover-like gestures. He settled for the next best thing. "Never again," he whispered fiercely. His arm moved of its own violation to slip around her shoulders, and he didn't begrudge himself the small pleasure or her the reassurance he knew she so badly needed. "He will never hurt you. I won't let him." And she looked at him, and she believed. When they had both calmed down, he said in a normal volume, "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I know it isn't pleasant for you to remember that other time, either. But I promise you, I will not allow either of them—or anyone else—to ever hurt you like that again."

She bit her lip, stiffening slightly, and he realized how hard he was gripping her. 'Tone it down, Ren. You're letting your inner Kuon out.' And Kuon was too emotionally invested to let loose on a vulnerable Mogami Kyoko. Especially if Tsuruga Ren ever wanted to see her again.

He let her go and eased back slightly, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He wanted so much to be allowed to comfort her the way a loved one would, and not just because it might make *him* feel better. But he had to respect their current relationship, no matter how much he wished to be acknowledged as more than her sempai or even friend.

"Besides," he said casually, "next time Setsu won't need her big brother to protect her; apparently she can handle herself now." Briefly, he pouted at her, so quick anyone else would've missed it, and she smiled.

"She is doing well in her self-defense lessons…" here her smiled slipped away again, but she did not grow fearful this time. Her eyes looked at him with so much intensity that he caught his breath. "But I think she will always need…her big brother." And the look in her eyes was pure Setsu, but without any Setsu in it. It was Mogami Kyoko who was looking at him with that possessive trust, that utter certainty that he would be there for because his world revolved around her, and for a moment, he forgot the people around them, forgot the world, forgot himself.

He reached out to cup her face, and traced the outline of it with his fingers. She didn't move, and yet he swore she leaned into the touch, and set his blood racing through him so hotly his skin prickled with the heat of it. For a few precious seconds they just looked at each other so intimately it no longer matter what label they gave their relationship.

Then her eyes widened minutely, and he came back to himself too, adopting Cain's tone to say indulgently, "Then they're well-matched; he will always need her, too."

Setsu flitted across her features as her body relaxed again. His imouto gave him her signature sinister-sweet smile. "Good, nii-san—"

"Back to set! Two minutes to rolling!" came the director's bellow, amplified by his megaphone.

And everyone scrambled to finish cigarettes and eat their last bites of a snack, and as they separated, Yashiro came wandering up, eyes sparkling, with some badly fabricated story about water and a walk through the forest. He narrowed his eyes at the last part, flicking over his usually impeccably dressed manager and lingering on his slightly dusty right knee. Yashiro noticed him noticing, gaze flicking aside at him as he chatted with Kyoko before they walked out to their places.

'Oh yes, Yashiro, we will be having a talk about your "stroll through the woods".'

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"I see," Ren said as neutrally as he could when the subject was Fuwa Sho. Which apparently really wasn't very.

A rustling sound. Yashiro cleared his throat. "Ren, you're making me shiver, over here. Could you please take the chill out of your tone?"

He flushed, turning away from the railing and running his free hand through his hair. He walked off the small back patio and closed the door behind him. "I'm sorry, Yashiro. It's just—"

"Fuwa Sho makes your blood boil and your eyes and words turn to icy weapons of death," Yashiro finished in the theatrical cadence of a YA audiobook narrator.

Ren's brow twitched, despite their being no one in his apartment to see it.

"…I mean, uh…he bothers you," Yashiro added lamely.

"What bothers me is that he bothers Mogami-san," Ren corrected, ignoring the other man's melodrama, as well as the brief thought that his manager just _had_ to be related to the Boss _somewhere_ in his family-tree.

"But he won't be, not anymore," Yashiro said with grim satisfaction.

Ren nodded, opening his fridge and reaching for an onigiri.

Kyoko's dead-eyed threatening stare flickered in his mind.

He flinched and grabbed a take-out menu for one of the healthier restaurants in the area. "I'm glad to hear that, Yashiro. Thank you for your quick thinking. And I don't just mean for Mogami-san's reputation." Her physical safety was more important to Ren than her reputation, though he was glad that had been guarded as well.

"I know, Ren," Yashiro said understandingly. His tone brightened. "So what were you and Kyoko-chan talking about at lun—"

BEEP-BEEP!

He glanced at the screen. "I'm sorry, Yashiro, I have a call on the other line," he said smoothly. 'Thank Kami.' He rolled his eyes.

"No you don't! You made that up!"

"I'll see you tomorrow," he hung up on him, switching over. His voiced warmed. "Hello, Mogami-san. How are you?" He realized he was smiling foolishly, but since no one else was around he indulged in it, pacing around in a circle in his kitchen.

"I got the part!" she burst out joyfully. He could almost see her eyes sparkling.

"And which part is that?" he teased her.

"You didn't forget," she retorted without any venom, and reminded him anyway. "The part for the music video for Dark Rain! The one where I get to work with Moko-san! I'm so excited!" she squealed, as though it might not have been evident from her tone. "She's who I want to work with most in the world!" Belatedly she added, "Besides you, Sempai."

He laughed. "I know how much you care about your friend, Mogami-san. And she's not without talent; I look forward to seeing how you both do." And truthfully, he did. New talent was always interesting, even when you weren't in love with it. "When do you start filming?"

The sound of pages flipping; her schedule, no doubt. "Hmm…I have it scheduled to start in a two days – it won't interfere with the Heels. But it may be a bit longer if Saito-san does not feel better soon."

"I'm sure we'll make it work," he said, referring to their secret job. "But I am very pleased for you, Mogami-san. And proud."

Silence. Then, "You…you are?"

The uncertainty in her voice hurt him, but he made no comment on. He refused to draw her attention back to that idiot fake-blonde or her harsh mother by ranting that she should never have had cause to doubt herself. Besides, he wasn't supposed to know about the latter. "I am."

"Thank you, Tsuruga-san," she said shyly. "That means a lot to me."

They chatted for a few more moments before he reluctantly let her go for the night. Before he could forget, he placed an order for take-out, so he could truthfully say he'd had dinner when she asked – and she would. And he sat on his couch waiting, and thinking over the day.

There were still times when despaired over his feelings for Kyoko, times when he feared he was no better a man than the one who had fled America at fifteen. But today, he could console himself that she knew he cared for her at least as a kohai, and could be depended upon.

And that he was not, nor had ever been, a man like Fuwa Sho.

'Murderer…'

His foolhardy actions had caused a death. It was his fault. He had no illusions of it being otherwise. And he still had not forgiven himself. But by Kami, he did not seek to add to his sins! He would not ever force himself on a woman, throw people away when he'd gotten what he'd wanted from them, or mock or abuse others to amuse himself.

He tried and tried every day to grow as a person, to be better than before.

'Some days, I fail,' he acknowledged, sighing. But at least he tried…

A creeping fog of reminiscent despair nevertheless began to creep over him until his phone began to play Yashiro's ringtone. He made a face and picked it up. "If this is about—"

"I'll get to that in a moment," Yashiro interrupted, making Ren blink. "There's been a last-minute offer made for you; Dark Rain is making their come-back music video and the lead singer is not well enough to do the character shots…"

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THE END

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_A/N: Or is it? ; ) Of course not! This is the 3rd installment of my Not-Love mini-series, and for once, it is open-ended. The 4th, and I think final, part will be from Kanae's pov._

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_Please forgive typos, I self-edit and post whenever the plot-bunny hits me (it's usually at work and all in one go)._


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